Debts Owed the Forgotten
by Almadynis Rayne
Summary: Xander has been forgotten by the Scoobies. All he wants is a place to call home. Will the debt Halfrek owes Anya be enough to grant him his deepest desire? *ON HIATUS*
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: It's not mine. None of it. *sobsobsob*

Also I have never written a Black Jewels fic before; so tell me if I screw it up.  
No beta. All mistakes are mine.

* * *

Halfrek stills owes Anya one...or two...dozen. Okay, so she had a tendency to get into trouble and Anyanka had always been ready, willing, and able to take of the problem(s). Not to mention when they collaborated together for a wish. That had always been fun. But it did tend to gather up a bit of a debt to a person. When the person was now dead...well, under normal circumstances the debt would have transferred to the nearest blood-family member. ((Which had caused a lot of problems millennia ago, back when Vengeance Demons were encouraged to have a family. There were a couple of incidents where kin would arrange for the Wish Demon's death and be right beside the body when they died, thus gaining all the favors the demon had accrued over their career. One too many times, and the policies had changed.))

Anyanka had shown extremely good business sense while alive. The woman had loved money and knew how to handle it to make it grow. Deals and investments had added up to become over $500,000. All of it had gone to one Alexander LaVelle Harris. Even the debts owed her had gone to the man who had left her at the alter. Apparently, she really had loved the goofy male enough to forgive him.

Which made Hallie's job much harder. To repay her debt to Anya, she had to deal with Xander. Xander, the White Knight, the One Who Sees, and Homegrown Sunnydaler who knew better than to make "wish" statements. It had been so long that Hallie just kept a mental ear out for his voice as she went about her job.

And if Hallie was honest with herself, she was actually rather glad that Xander had absorbed Anya's marks. She owed the dead demon quite a bit, enough to give a _real_ wish without the demonic bad-outcome consequences. Hallie was also the Vengeance Demon of Wronged Children...she had some experience with what an abused child would want and what they would need. Xander had most definitely been an abused child. So she already had a good idea of how to repay her debt.

Especially with how the "Scoobies" now treated their resident Zeppo. He had gone to Africa over three years ago to find and train new slayers that were popping up all over the place. In that time, he had found over 56 slayers over the dark continent, setting up safe houses and bases as he went. There were now approximately 20, each with two or three slayers, guarding their section of Africa from demons and the forces of darkness. That had been fifteen months ago...and he had still not been called back to his loved ones. They had forgotten him. And now that all of Africa knew about the slayer and how to find a safe house, Xander had made himself obsolete.

For almost a year and a half, the White Knight had continued to travel without purpose. He killed demons that threatened humans, set up treaties (or in some cases redrafted treaties) with the non-threatening demonic races, and escorted new slayers to the nearest New Watcher's Council base. But these things were few and far between. He would go weeks without seeing any sentient being, human or otherwise.

Xander was alone. He was lonely.

It was only a matter of time before Halfrek would have an opportunity to repay her debt.

*****

With the ease of long practice, Xander Harris broke camp. With his weapon's bag swung over one shoulder, an ax in his belt, food in various pockets, and a waterbottle on his hip, he set out once again across the wilderness preserve in Kenya. It was his favorite place in Africa with its animal life. The plant life was tolerable, especially in the rainy season. There was a large area that was infested with an aggressive thorn bush, but he tended to stay away from that region unless he had no choice. He had more than one scar just from those thorns.

He heaved a great sigh. Days tended to run together in the wild, but every time he passed by a safe house he checked. And if he had his days right, then today was his birthday. He was a grand 25 years old...and just like last year no one but he would remember. Oh, he kept track of the other's birthdays and always made sure to be at a safe house to call them on their special day. But on his own birthday, no one would call and unlike him they didn't need a phone. They had the ability to contact him no matter where he happened to be...but he hadn't even spoken to any of the others in about two years.

Xander sighed again.

His heart and mind burned with desire. Not the quick physical desire that he only occasionally indulged in, but the long-lasting emotional desire of a bond. His blood relatives had been deplorable and he hadn't shed a single tear at their deaths with the collapse of Sunnyhell. He thought his chosen-family were different...but they had forgotten him. Two years since speaking brought to light that simple fact. He was forgotten. He would settle for being useful, that would fill the void for a little while, but even that had become impossible.

A third sigh into the morning light.

Maybe they would remember today…

*****

Xander stared up at the night sky, majestically filled with stars, the Milky Way easy to see out on the sahara. With the Black Rhinos so close, he didn't chance a fire, but it was decently warm enough curled under his sturdy wool blanket.

It was past midnight. He had stayed up waiting for the second time for someone to remember his birthday and call.

His heart felt like it was a solid mass of rock in his chest, weighing him down to Earth away from the promise of the stars above him. There were some tribes who believed that when you died you went up into the heavens, into the stars, to join your ancestors. He wanted that dream. To join those who would care about him.

The desire was so strong that it had to be said aloud. A voice hoarse with dis-use, he told the stars what he wanted more than anything else. A heartfelt plea.

*****

Halfrek froze. Could it be? Finally, it seemed that she would be able to repay what she owed Anyanka, a millennia-old friend.

The spell she had placed on Xander to trigger if he ever gave voice to his wishes was ringing. In the next second, Hallie heard the desire and her heart softened eversoslightly. It was perfect. Vague enough that she could fulfill exactly what the boy needed, and didn't know he wanted.

"Please, whoever is listening...I know they don't grow on trees or anything, but maybe if you could just point me in the right direction? A place with people who love me. I just...I just wish I had a home."

Transporting herself instantly to Harris' side, much to his dawning horror, she smiled at him gently. "Oh, don't worry. This is going to be fantastic!" She paused, waiting for a response, but he just seemed resigned. "But, Anya's debt only goes so far for this one. Everything has a price. The transfer will be a bit uncomfortable, but the end result I think you will love!" He still seemed frozen in shock, so Hallie shrugged and snapped her fingers without further ado. Her debt paid, she went back to her interrupted job. There was a child in California who had made a wonderful wish of disownment.

* * *

[Black Jewels world-Kaeleer]

Xander felt as if he was falling, without the sensation of actually moving. Everything was blindingly white around him, a soft wind in his hair and across his skin. Soon, the white blended into a yellow, then a pinkish, followed by a purple hue… on and on through a rainbow of colors. Another thing was that as he journeyed down, he began to have a headache...and it kept getting worse the further he went. Time meant nothing in this black place, but the pressure in his head got to the point where he wanted to scream. That was when he discovered his inability to speak. He was in too much pain to panic.

After an indeterminate amount of time, the pressure on his mind became enough to threaten his sanity. More and more and more pressure until Xander thought he would break right in two or condense into a black hole. When he knew that even a drop further down into the blackness surrounding him would result in a Xander-shaped vegetable...it stopped.

The pain faded quickly and he got used to the pressure as if he was scuba diving. He was able to take a deep breath and look around. The color of the space he was in had stopped at an extremely dark grey, almost a black but not quite. But there was nothing in this dark-grey-ness but the color. He wasn't even wearing clothes, let alone have any of his supplies. Xander tried again to utter a sound, this time a question. To his surprise, he was able.

*Hello?* He called out into that dark-grey void. Nothing answered him.

*Hello! Anyone!* He turned on the spot, at least he assumed it was on the spot since he had no landmarks, searching for anything. Nothing.

One last time, he yelled out at the top of his lungs, as loud as he could. *HELLLLLOOOOO! ANYONE OUT THERE?!* The emptiness around him seemed to move toward him, closing him off from everything and everyone. Didn't Hallie say this was supposed to be fullfilling a debt? Did someone wish he was tortured or crazy? He sat down and curled up with his arms around his knees. He felt despair and wanted to cry. Ever since he had been 16 and fell for one particular girl, his life had gone from bad to worse with his chosen family the only light in the darkness. In the last two years, he had lost even them…and now this.

He just couldn't do this anymore. He didn't have anything left.

Everyone had their breaking point.

Xander had found his.

*Please? Anyone? Help me… Someone please help me…* he pleaded with the void.

At that precise moment, Xander felt a hand on his shoulder in a gentle caress. He jumped to his feet and spun to find...nothing. Great, he really was insane. He wanted contact so much that his mind created it for him. The hand came back, this time curling around his own right hand. But when he looked down, nothing was there. A ghost hand...couldn't he have imagined a whole person?

The phantom hand tugged at him and with no reason not to, he let his arm follow the pull until he had his arm was stretched as far as he could go. Then he went on tiptoes. *I can't go any farther, I'm not that tall!*  
He had a sense of laughter and his left hand was grasped as well.

Between one timeless moment and another, he had both arms stretched over his head, and then he was hanging by them. He gave a scream of surprise and a little fear. That sense came back, this time with reassurance that this was the right thing to do. He could only watch as the colors around him began to reverse. Beginning with that dark-grey, he slowly ascended through a lighter grey, then a deep red followed by a dark blue...and on and on until he saw that blinding white get closer and then encompass him. But the ghost hands kept pulling him upward and Xander craned his neck to look upward.

Another timeless moment...he blinked. Trees. He was staring at trees.

* * *

_Okay, what do you think? Should I keep going? Does anyone even read these books on this site?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Kaeleer**

_One week later…_

Xander sat with his back up against a tree as he read in the afternoon light. He had a stack of books that he was working his way through. Fortunately, years of researching the latest demon had given him the ability to read for an extended amount of time. A skill that, despite being long disused, had not left him.

When he had woken a week ago, it was to a whole new world. Everything was the same, but just a little bit different. The trees, grass, and flowers were like a recurring deja vu episode. It was like he _should_ recognize them, but he couldn't. They were too different. Even the stars were different. He looked up at the sky every night and wondered what planet he was on, that he couldn't find a single constellation. He had been in Africa, living in the open, for a little over three years. He knew most constellations on sight and could tell you what month it was based on their positions. So, to look up and not know...it was a constant reminder that this place wasn't Earth.

Another surprise was his bag of weapons. The bag had stayed, but the contents were changed. The only weapon he still had was the ax on his belt. What he found instead was enough food for a few days, a survival pack (which had contained a fish hook he had made good use of after the food ran out), a stack of paper with gold numbers on them, and books. It was the books that made up the weight difference for the absent weapons.

Books about history. Books on cultures and peoples (there were a ton of different races, all with their own history and traditions). Books about politics. Books about how to act in any situation (and boy did they come up with some interesting situations), which was called Protocol. Most of the books were written as if for children, so he looked at the information in that light. The basics only.

But the most fascinating books were about magic, here called Craft. These Craft books numbered a full half of his total, and what he spent the most time reading.

When Willow had begun to learn magic, he watched her and tried to learn too in private. He had failed spectacularly. Here, the magic was not only completely different, but it was approached in an entirely different method. There were many kinds of Craft. Some, you had to be born to, such as Healing or Black Widow (he didn't have any book on those, only mentions of them). Other Craft, everyone had the ability to learn, they just had to practice.

He also learned that there were levels of power (of course he knew this, what with Willow being the most powerful Wicca in the Northern Hemisphere). Everyone could do Basic Craft, the simple spells, but for anything harder you had to have the power. These different levels of power were culturally on display (he thought this was the worst idea ever, but he didn't make these rules) in the form of Jewels. There were 13 different Jewels. They ranged from the least powerful, White, to the most powerful, Black. The darker the Jewel, the more power you had.

There were two ceremonies to get your Jewel: Birthright and the Offering to the Darkness. Both could only be performed once. There were also cases of people not getting a Birthright Jewel, but received a Jewel later, though never a dark Jewel. The Birthright ceremony required specific settings, equipment, and tools. However, the Offering could be made in any number of ways; a ceremony was just the most common.

As far as Xander currently understood, the descent into that void with all the multitude of blending darkening colors was him making the Offering. It certainly explained why when he woke he was clutching two Jewels the same shade as that dark-gray. He thought they were Ebon-gray Jewels, the second most dark jewel, just one above Black. His two also seemed to be uncut, which apparently meant they had never been previously owned. Go him! Somebody was impressed. Now he could be the Ebon-gray Knight.

He just hoped that the dark power here didn't mean insanity. He still remembered Darth Willow and didn't want a repeat...or be the one who tried to end the world.

Xander had managed a few extremely basic spells. The first was to tie his new Jewels to him. Until he did that, anyone could have stolen and used them for who knew what purposes. It was a good safeguard. It didn't stop the possibility of someone taking his Jewels, but at least if they did they wouldn't be able to use them. The second spell had eliminated the need for a fish hook.

Craft was much more mental than magic. With Willow and Wicca, you had to have ingredients and rituals, not just ability. Craft seemed to be bounded by two things: power and imagination. If you had the power, you could theoretically cast the spell, but if you couldn't imagine then it didn't really matter how much power you had. Now, there was the "brute force method" that was j_ust_ power, and Xander had accidently destroyed a tree that way, but it wasn't Craft.

His second spell had consisted of a whole day of headaches. First he had tried to imagine the fish in his hands. Then the fish swimming to him. Then the fish jumping onto the bank for him to catch. By midafternoon, hunger had become a definite motivator, and he had frustratingly yelled bloody murder at the uncooperative fish, physically held out his arm and yanked it back to his chest. The scared salmon-lookalike had slapped him in the face in retaliation. The movement of pulling had helped his mentalization of his task just enough that he could accomplish it. It was the ah-ha! moment he needed to really start his new education.

In cohesion with Craft were constant mentions of Blood. Xander had yet to find out what being Blood _meant_. What he had discovered that the Blood ruled the land. All Blood could do Craft, but didn't necessarily have Jewels. There was also an intricate balance of political power that the Blood adhered to, called Protocol, which governed everything from how deep you should bow to the requirements of an escort. Jewel strength was a big part of the "dance" of politics, but also something called caste.

Xander vaguely remembered reading about caste-systems in history class in Sunnyhell. In feudal caste systems back on Earth, you were born into the caste and could not reach any higher no matter what you did. If you were a merchant, you were middle class. If you were aristocracy, you were high class. There was also the nobility, the monarchy, and at the very bottom were peasants. On Earth, there was also a stigma in the caste system; you looked down on and belittled everyone in a lower caste than you and you kissed the ass of anyone with a higher caste.

Here (and this world didn't have one name but three, he thought he was in the part called Kaeleer), it was déjà vu again. Blood were born into a caste and couldn't achieve higher, that was the same. But there was no stigma, not that he read about at least. Castes here were associated with what your _were_, your personality. Women had five possible castes: witch, Healer, Priestess, Black Widow, and Queen. Males had three: Warlord, Prince, and Warlord Prince. The book didn't go into too much detail on the differences between the castes, but it did go deeply into the "dance" of interaction between the castes. Now all he had to do was figure out which caste he was in so that he could put this new-found knowledge to use. Theoretically at least.

Until he finished all the books in his current position, he wasn't going to go looking for people yet. It was way too dangerous. The unknown could literally kill him.

_What do you think?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Kaeleer**

Once Xander had discovered the key to Craft, learning new spells had become not only easy, but fun.

It was the fish incident that had given him the clue. He hadn't gotten a face full of fish until the physical movement of his arm, which helped his mental picture. The next day, Xander had spent going from an arm-motion to a hand-motion to a finger-motion, and finally dispensing with the movements entirely. Lots of catch-and-release.

Now, he just started with the mental picture and the hand motion. Within a few minutes, Xander would master the spell so that he could cast it without a twitch of even a finger. He had almost completed the book on Basic Craft…which didn't stop him from learning the theory to the more advanced Craft. He was almost ready to search for a village.

He was really tired of fish.

Xander was following the fish-filled stream along with the current. His bag, full of the books, the wad of gold-numbered paper (he really hoped it was the local currency, but money wasn't discussed in his books either), the remains of the survival pack, and his ax, was swung over his shoulder. His ax was only good for chopping firewood these days. Even Basic Craft could incapacitate (and if you were imaginative it could kill), which made the ax the least dangerous weapon he possessed. His Jewels were safe inside the tiny pocket in his jeans made for change.

Under normal circumstances, Xander would have tried to make himself look as non-threatening as possible. In Kaeleer, there was no way to hide how dangerous he actually was. There was a psychic scent to all Blood that told their caste and usually their general mood. Since he hadn't met anyone else, he still didn't know his own caste. The only thing he could hide in such circumstances were his Jewels.

Apparently it was possible to "break" Blood so that their Jewels actually _broke_, making it impossible for them to do more than Basic Craft. It required a darker Jewel than the Blood wore, so he was relatively safe of that front, or it could be accidently occur if someone pushed themselves too far and drained their Jewel until there was nothing left.

How the Jewels worked was similar to an over-flow. Blood naturally had power that was constantly being renewed. The Jewels allowed the Blood to store more power than their body could hold. The core power could perform Basic Craft easily. The Jewels, with their reservoir of power, let Blood cast advanced Craft. Xander was still a bit confused with how all Blood could do Basic Craft when they were supposed to have different levels of power; so shouldn't the more powerful Blood cast more powerful Basic Craft spells? He didn't know. He had a lot of questions that weren't in his books.

So by hiding his Jewels in his pocket the people would assume that he was a broken male that could only do Basic Craft, no matter what his caste. At least in theory. It was an educated guess based on how important it was in the Blood culture to showcase a person's Jewels. Considering wherever he ended up, he would be a complete stranger with no one to introduce him around or reassure the local males of his honorability…Xander wasn't sure that if he did somehow manage to come up with a way to show his Jewels, he wouldn't be killed on sight. If anyone was able to catch the omission, he would simply tell the truth: he had performed the Offering recently and hadn't been able to get them set yet.

Unfortunately, this tactic meant that he couldn't shield for fear someone would be able to sense it. A shield was basically a force field formed of the same power-level as the Jewel used to create it. So Xander could make an Ebon-gray shield. Shields could be broken by darker Jewel's strength or bombardment by equal or lesser Jewels. It did take a bit of power to make a shield, but after it was shaped it required barely a drop to maintain.

Xander had been using shields to keep the rain off his head.

He had been walking since midmorning and it was now late afternoon. He knew from much experience that he could walk at about 4.5mph, which meant he had gone approximately 24 miles without seeing even a hint of civilization.

He was just about to start camp for the night, another two hours and nine miles, when he caught the tell-tale scent of a fire. Angleing in the direction strongest, Xander hoped he would find people before full dark.

Only twenty minutes later he came upon the little village.

It was rather quaint. Of a decent size with a main thoroughfare of shops lined on either side and spread out with private homes. In the distance, he could make out a rather large mansion or castle that was both extremely intimidating and also strangely comforting at the same time. He would definitely see if he could investigate.

Xander kept his body language nonaggressive as he walked toward the Inn (glad that the signs were in the same language as his books; this world had over a dozen different written and spoken languages). Not one face his eye slid past held welcome. Boys stepped in front of girls, men in front of women. Xander suppressed the urge to smile. He remembered doing the same thing with Willow when they were younger, before they had met Buffy and their lives had changed.

Taking a deep breath, his hand drifting down to curl one finger into that tiny change pocket to have skin contact with his Jewels, he pushed open the Inn door and approached the bar. If push came to shove, he would shield and run as fast as he could…Xander really hoped no one forced him to kill. But just in case, he had three Basic Craft spells mastered that rendered a full grown tree into dust. Who knew what they would do to flesh and bone, he really didn't want to find out. More fuel for his nightmares.

The bartender sidled up to him. The man wore what Xander thought was a Tiger-Eye Jewel in a ring. He could tell the man was wary of the stranger, but before either could speak the emotion turned to pity. Xander hoped that meant his ruse was working. "What can I do for you, stranger?"

Xander didn't both to hide his blush. "My name is Xander. I've been out on the land for the last few weeks and I'm _really_ tired of fish." The innkeeper quirked a smile in understanding and humor. "Thing is, I don't have any money with me. Would you happen to know anyone who needs a handyman?" In these types of small towns, the inn was the focal point of social interaction. The barkeep or owner should know any and all gossip…at least if Xander was still on Earth. He just hoped it was the same here.

The other nodded contemplatively. "Welcome to Halaway. I'm Gregor. There is a landen village not too far down the way," he gestured in the proper direction with his head. "Won't really help you for tonight." Xander shifted his bag to settle more firmly and wondered what the heck was a landen. The barkeep rubbed his neck as he thought. "Tell you what. The SaDiablos are coming in soon. You help my girls keep up with them and the rest of my customers and you will earn yourself not only stew, but a place by the fire tonight and a simple breakfast." He stuck out his hand. "Deal?"

Xander grinned and shook the appendage eagerly. "More than I had hoped." He dropped the hand after the Protocol specified time if he was a Warlord. He really needed for figure out his own caste and how to tell other's caste. "Where can I put my bag and wash up a bit before I start handling other people's food?" All sorts of thoughts were roaming around his mind as he was directed to the small kitchen.

Who were these SaDiablos that presented a need for another server? Did they just have money or were they also politically powerful? Perhaps there was a way for him to get a teacher or mentor; explain all the missing gaps in his knowledge. If not a person, perhaps he could earn enough money to get more books that did have the information he needed.

With a shake of his head to clear his mind of the mired of thoughts, he dried his hands, wrapped his waist in a clean apron and went back out to the bar to start earning his supper.

* * *

_What do you guys think? Reviews are helpful!_


	4. Chapter 4

**SaDiablo Hall Kaeleer**

_Approximately two weeks ago…_

Four people heard the curious call on the Ebon-gray thread. All were either still in bed or readying themselves for the coming day. The problem with this? There was supposedly only one individual with the Ebon-gray Jewel, and that was not his voice or his personality. Lucivar Yaslana would not be asking anything, he would just barrel right on through.

Jaenelle Angeline, wife to Daemon Sadi, one of only two men who wore the Black Jewel, turned when the call came again with a confused but interested expression. Her husband didn't say anything, trusting her judgment like he trusted no one else, not even his father.

When the call came a third time, loud enough that they both winced, all Daemon did was place a Black shield around his wife. She gave him a loving, knowing smile and sat down on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes, searching in her mind for this person.

It was fascinating to Daemon to watch Jaenelle work. She no longer had the same depth of power since she had purged all three realms of the taint of Dorothea and Hekatah, but she was still the most powerful being in any of the realms. And she certainly had enough power and knowledge to easily deal with someone on the Ebon-gray level (proven often when she and Lucivar sparred).

Daemon got out of bed, dressed easily in his standard black pants and jacket with the white silk shirt.

*Please? Anyone? Help me… Someone please help me…* a heartfelt plea, no longer sounding like a man but a boy. Someone who didn't know what to do and had no support at all. Those few sentences told Daemon, his brother Lucivar, Jaenelle, and his father Saetan, the only other man to wear the Black, much about the individual who had performed the Offering.

He watched silently as his wife finished doing whatever she needed in order to help this obviously desperate person. He knew that all four of them with the ability to hear the entreaty understood the implications.

The man, wherever he had grown up, knew absolutely nothing about the Offering. It had happened on accident. It did happen on occasion. In his 1600 years of life, he had heard of this only three times before. In every one of those incidents, it was a supposed landen that was playing at being Blood. None of them received a Jewel higher than the Yellow. This boy was not like the other three. More than likely, while he had been raised by landens, he was Blood of a good bloodline. He was an orphan or had been abandoned as a newborn, whether he knew it or not. That was the only way any Blood-male could have been raised in such complete ignorance.

The boy would need a sponsor, mentor, and most significantly a supportive structure. They were the only family that had the ability to teach a full-grown Ebon-gray male. There would be mistakes and anger backed by the second darkest Jewel. Only those with the same strength or darker would be able to teach the boy with the least amount of damage (or fatalities if the boy was a Warlord Prince).

When Jaenelle finally looked up at him, done with what she needed, he said smoothly. "I'll tell Helene to prepare a room in the family wing." She smiled at him widely, jumped up and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him soundly.

He grinned into her lips and began to lean her back down on the bed.

* * *

_One week later…_

The boy was nowhere to be found. He hadn't used his Jeweled strength at all, so there was no way to track him. The only thing that the family was able to do was put out the word to be on the lookout for a stranger with an odd background. The only thing they knew for certain was the boy was in Dhemlan, based on how much power Jaenelle had needed to connect to the boy's mind and pull him out of the Abyss.

If they weren't able to find the boy soon, only the Darkness knew what could possibly happen.

* * *

_Back to the present…_

Daemon sat at his desk in his personal study as he did the worst part of owning businesses or ruling Dhemlan: paperwork. A necessary, but occasionally irritating task. His father was much more suited to the nuisance.

When Beale, his Red Jeweled butler, came in with a letter with the simple, "A messenger just delivered this from Halaway. He specified the urgency of the contents." Daemon was more than willing to set aside the tedious annoyance on his desk.

"Thank you, Beale." He quickly read the short missive and his eyebrows rose. "Please give my regards to Mrs. Beale, we will be having dinner at the Tiger Inn." Which would be _so_ fun to hear the explosion when they returned. He may be the most powerful Blood-male in all three realms, but he did not rule his own kitchen. He just paid for the ingredients.

On a private psychic thread, he quickly contacted Jaenelle and Lucivar. *He's in Halaway.*

Jaenelle quickly replied. *I'll meet you in the foyer.*

Lucivar gave a mental chuckle. *The boyo wore himself out along with the puppies. I'll call Father to come for dinner.* While his wife, Marian, was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and the other occupants of his Eyrie home, as a Warlord Prince he would be much more comfortable with a trusted male to make sure of his family's safety. Something which both his wife and father, Saetan SaDiablo, understood.

*Good. The boy is currently working as a server at the Tiger Inn.* Daemon inserted, also understanding the nature of a Warlord Prince (he was one himself), and received the mental equivalent of nodding before the thread broke.

The boy would soon find out what it meant to have the complete attention of three of the most powerful Blood in all three realms.

Mother Night have mercy on him.

* * *

_Wanted to get the perspective of the SaDiablo's before they meet Xander. Next chapter all of them will finally meet. Watch the fireworks! _

_Review please!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Tiger Inn Halaway, Dhemlan Kaeleer**

Xander had played waiter before and it was like pulling back memories. At first, difficult to remember, but within ten minutes or so it was easy and his movements fluid. His easy going manner and plenty of humor with the patrons put the whole Inn at ease within minutes. Either that, or they went as the innkeeper and moved from wary to pity to ease. Whichever way it was, it worked and let him work.

The innkeeper, Gregor, and his wife May kept a tight house. May ruled the kitchen and kept the girls in line. Gregor dished out the drinks and kept a close eye of Xander. Which in itself was interesting.

On Earth, even in the old days, inns and innkeepers were places of gossip, socialization. So, fights tended to break out at least one a night. But here? Barely even raised voices. A few interesting looks between males, but they didn't go any further. Xander could only conclude that this was Protocol at work.

About an hour after Xander had started, the door opened yet again. He was on his way to a different table with a laden tray, so he kept his ears open to track the newcomer's progress. He smiled at the table and turned to the new table. His eyes glanced over the three before he focused.

Two men, one with bat-like wings folded behind him, and one woman. Xander felt something inside him shift when he looked at those two men; made him fall instantly into a defensive position. His one brown eye widened as he flicked his gaze between the pair. Obviously brothers, in blood as well as in battle. These two men had killed so many even they had lost count. The look in their eyes…the things they had seen, the things they had endured…the strength that they had, the honor they carried. All of this Xander could see in their eyes.

The one on the left had golden skin and golden eyes with dark hair. He was sin on two legs. Perfection in black and white silk. Even Xander, whose last male relationship had ended ten years previous, felt his blood spike and his skin flush. He shook his head minutely to clear it of the sudden lust. He had spent years suppressing his instincts in Africa out of necessity…now was definitely a time of necessity. The man had a Black Jewel in a ring.

The male on the right, the one with the wings, had the same skin, eyes, and hair and the other. He was slightly taller than the other and shirtless that showed off his very well-developed muscles. His Ebon-gray Jewel was also obvious.

Either of these men could kill Xander easily and without hesitation if he became a threat. Xander really liked breathing, so he shifted his feet out of the defensive stance that had come so naturally and immediately after seeing these two.

His first glance at the woman was only enough to tell him that she was female and blond. His second look, when he was glancing between the men, only picked up a slight figure. But his close look, after backing down from his own potential death, made him blink.

It was like seeing a double image. A photograph that had been overexposed. The woman most dominant had white-blond hair and sapphire eyes. The image beneath that…was definitely female but it was more of a creature. White-blond flowing hair, with white-blond short fur covering her naked body. There was a short horn in the middle of her forehead, pure white. A demon, perhaps, but Xander couldn't feel any hostility from her. And if he was honest with himself, she was so… "beautiful." He was barely aware of the whispered word.

Xander's world narrowed into a focus so strong he even dismissed the two men to either side of the woman that had become his world. The tray fell to the floor, his arm no longer capable of holding it. His knees buckled and he fell, his eye locked onto two sapphire eyes so deep they pulled his very soul into her own. This woman…she held his life in her hands…and every instinct within him wanted her to.

But Xander had spent decades denying all instincts until it had become a habit. That one millisecond of second guessing his own instinct was all that he needed to shake himself out of the trance-like state looking into those eyes had done to him. He shook his head a second time, sharp and final. "No…" He blinked and stumbled backward, eyes wide in fear. "No…not again…"

Without no other thought than getting away, Xander fed Basic Craft into his muscles, snapped an Ebon-gray shield tight around his body, and ran as fast as he could around the other patrons and out of the inn. Another pulse of Basic Craft had his bag zooming out of the kitchen to follow his path.

Or at least, he tried to get out of the inn. No matter how he pounded it, or shoved, it remained stubbornly resolute. Trapped. Xander leapt over the patrons heads, using tables as stepping stones, and headed toward the kitchen. Only one door. Easily defensible.

* * *

Daemon glanced at Lucivar and Jaenelle as they watched the boy run. "That could have gone better." He commented mildly as he placed a Black lock on the inn door, followed by a Black shield around the building.

Lucivar snorted. "Clearly. He had good reactions to us, considering he's untrained. But what happened with you, Cat?"

She was looking in the direction the boy had run with pity. "He's First Circle," Which told the two men with her monuments of meaning. "but he's been hurt before by being First Circle. He doesn't trust anyone, not even himself. Not anymore." Jaenelle sighed. "Papa might be best."

* * *

_Not quite sure I like this…what do you think?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Tiger Inn Kitchen **

Xander didn't know how long he crouched there in a corner away from all the hustle and bustle of an inn's kitchen. May sneaked him a concerned look before the constant stream of patrons made her get back to work. The girls too peaked at him surreptitiously as they came back and forth with trays. He refused to get out of his crouch, and the Ebon-gray shield he had created around his little hideaway made sure that no one could make him go either except for the Black Jeweled male who had not followed him so far. Xander was so focused on the entrance that it took five minutes for him to realize that he held his hand-ax tightly. He had no idea how it had reached his hand, but did acknowledge to himself that while Craft was much more deadly, the ax was more of a security blanket in this case.

Long minutes he waited. Waited for either the Black shield to drop so he could then leave as quickly as possible, or for the three people—he should learn their names so he could avoid them at all cost—to come after him. Obviously he somehow mattered to them, otherwise the Black shield would have never been created.

It was the woman he feared the most. While the two men could very easily kill him, the woman had the ability to leave him broken—worse than dead.

Eventually, Xander saw a man enter the kitchen and he jolted into a ready crouch. At first glance, he mistook the man for the Black Jeweled male from before, but a closer look led Xander to believe that this one was probably the father of the first. The one in front of him was starting to get gray in his hair and he walked with a very subtle limp. Otherwise, the two were identical in coloring and physique. The biggest difference though was the Red Jewel on his right hand.

The women ignored him for all but a courtesy nod and curtsy in his direction. He gave them all a warm smile in return before focusing his attention on Xander himself. The man stopped just short and sat back—where his chair was made of air apparently—in front of the Ebon-gray shield. It was an interesting bit of Craft that Xander made a mental note to experiment with later.

The man's voice had a deep sophisticated baritone that almost immediately made Xander want to relax. He fought his instincts once again. He knew from experience—and using it to his advantage—to never underestimate an opponent. "I am Prince Saetan SaDiablo." Xander had to struggle to keep his humor off his face. Now was really not the time to get distracted by fate's jokes. The man had seen his quirk of a smile and merely raised an eyebrow before he continued. He didn't pull punches and Xander could appreciate that. "You came to my attention as well as to that of my two sons and daughter three weeks ago when you cried out into the Abyss on an Ebon-gray thread. This action alone gave us a great deal of information about you and your situation. The most significant now is that you have had no training. As a new Blood male in Kaeleer, it is law for you to serve under a Queen whom possesses a darker Jewel than yourself for five years so that you may adjust to the differences in culture and organization of a Court here." The way the man spoke, his mannerisms and the subtle body language reminded Xander strongly of Giles. Lots of words that he only halfway understood strung together in such a way as to make only partial sense.

"There is only one Court in Kaeleer that would qualify with your Ebon-gray Jewel, of which I am the Steward. My Queen would like to extend her invitation to you in such a capacity. You will receive weapon's training from the First Escort for as long as it is needed. The Court will provide you with tutors, as well as room and board, until your training ends." His cadence indicated he was waiting for a response.

Honestly, Xander was a bit overwhelmed. Dozens of questions rolled around his head until he settled on the most prominant. "What's the catch?" He didn't immediately receive a response, so he tried again. "Nothing's free. Everything has a price." That phrase was in his books, over and over again. It was also one of the things that Halfrek had said that stuck with him.

Saetan nodded. "You will be expected to serve in the Court when your training as progressed past a certain point, until your five years have elapsed. As Steward, I will determine when you are able to handle specific tasks."

Xander accepted that answer, it was extremely reasonable. It just seemed too good. There was no way he could get back to Earth. He knew that. So, he had to adapt to this new world, with its new rules, as quickly as he could. Five years was a long time, but what choice did he really have? It was nothing considering he was 25 years old and expected to live another 50 years or so. It was certainly less time to learn everything he needed to know compared to the 12 years it took to complete schooling on Earth. And he had nothing. No clothes, no food, no identification, no shelter, and he only _thought_ he had money. Even if what he had was money, he had no way of knowing what was reasonable to buy things—anyone could rip him off on a loaf of bread!

On the other side of things, he really didn't know much of anything. It would be incredibly easy for this Court to take advantage of him. Considering that they would have absolute control over him, they could ask anything of him and he would be obligated to comply. That was a terrifying thought.

But in the end, after evenly weighing the pros and cons, he really just didn't have much of a choice.

His eye had never left the man sitting as he seriously pondered all the implications. Once his mind was made up, he eased out of his crouch to straighten fully, shoved his ax back into the bag, and took down the shield. He bowed as low as if he was a Warlord, "My name is Xander Harris."

Saetan gave him a warm smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Harris. Welcome to the Dark Court."

* * *

_Midterms are coming up, so expect short sporadic updates at best._

_Other than the length…what do you guys think?_


	7. Chapter 7

**On the road to SaDiablo Hall from Halaway**

Xander paced Saetan, rather than the other way around, the limping man on his right side. His bag was slung over his shoulder. The first few questions on the walk were about as expected, but Xander's answer wasn't. "I don't trust you enough to answer that."

Surprisingly, Saetan didn't argue and even gave the younger an understanding nod, and just moved on. "Now that you hold the Ebon-gray, you will have to keep a tight leash on your emotions. It is a Warlord Prince's nature to rise to the killing edge, but it is up to you to decide what occasions require—"

Xander cut him off, "I'm a Warlord Prince? What does that mean? The books never explained the differences, just how the castes interact together." The older raised an imperial eyebrow that had Xander blushing softly. "Sorry."

"I will answer any questions that may have, Xander. That will be my part as your tutor. Your part will be to listen to the answers and keep up with your lessons." He waited for Xander to agree before he continued. "A Warlord Prince is the highest and most vicious caste of a Blood-male. We are extremely protective and territorial of what we consider ours. It is in our nature to rise to the killing edge at the slightest provocation to better defend." Saetan looked at Xander as they paused on the road. "You have been a Warlord Prince all of your life. Now you have the Ebon-gray behind you and the techniques you have used to keep your temper in check are no longer going to be enough. The First Escort will be helping you in this aspect."

Xander nodded his understanding, though he had to wonder about the 'all your life' part. How could he have those characteristics associated with being a Warlord Prince and not notice? He knew Saetan wasn't wrong, the Blood's psychic energy, sometimes called the 'psychic scent', told a person's caste. Saetan had no reason to lie to him. But still…it was strange.

The walk continued relatively quietly as Xander thought, the other male sensing Xander's deep contemplation. A wolf's howl, quickly taken up by more, came soon after, but Saetan appeared unconcerned, so Xander took his lead. "Dinner in SaDiablo Hall is a semi-formal family affair. Tonight, you will meet the Queen, her husband who also happens to be the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, the First Escort and Master of the Guard. They are my two sons and adopted daughter. Before we see them, I need to explain something."

His tone had changed significantly into a very serious deep baritone. It was enough to instantly get Xander's attention and make him very nervous. "It is expected that a Queen will make you feel a sense of belonging or coming home. It is quite normal. I myself have experienced this for my own Queen. You can serve a Queen that you do not belong to, which is more common. This 'belonging' is what you felt in the Inn." He looked at Xander, hoping he would understand.

Xander wasn't stupid. He could connect the dots just fine. He gave a great sigh even as the fear at the back of his neck began to flare again. "She's your Queen. Your daughter." He waited for Saetan to nod. "I can't..." he trailed off, not knowing how to say that he had been burned before.

Saetan nodded again. "Considering your last reaction to Jaenelle, you will not be expected to join the First Circle until you are ready. There is a very real need for trust and you are unable to give her that at this time. For now, you will be Eighth Circle."

Something to focus on besides his bone-deep terror was nice. "What do you mean? First Circle? Eighth Circle?" The pair resumed their walk up to the mansion, which actually wasn't all that far away.

"A Court is made of one Queen and then Circles of males and females that surround and protect her. The most trusted and able to perform the best protection are the First Circle. With the smaller Courts, it is the only Circle, but that is rare. Even if it only has servants and students as a Second Circle. The minimum number of males in the First Circle is twelve in order for the Court to be legitimate.

"With the Dark Court, that is our Court, there are several Circles because we have so many people under our protection. Our First Circle consists the Queens and their First Escort or Consort of all territories in Kaeleer except one, Little Terrielle. The Second Circle is bigger with all of those mentioned immediate families and some former instructors. Most of their children are Twelfth Circle since they do not have the ability to protect as of yet and are to be protected.

"You will be Eighth Circle since you are fully grown and showed good reactions indicating training when you met with the First Escort, Lucivar, and Daemon, the Queen's husband, earlier. What this will mean for your immediate future is that, as part of your training, you will be required to shadow Daemon, Lucivar, and myself for several weekends out of the year as we serve Jaenelle. As your training continues, you will ascend the Circles as your duties become more complicated and you are allowed to be alone until you reach Second Circle. At that time, you will not immediately enter First Circle when you finish your training but will stay in Second until you are ready. Do you understand?" He looked at Xander so he could see the boy nod uncertainly and he smiled reassuringly. "It will get easier with time."

Saetan smiled as they entered the rather large building. "Welcome to SaDiablo Hall."

* * *

_Due to a rather large case of writer's block, all stories are on hiatus until further notice. If I get an idea, I'll write it down and update immediately, no matter the length, but I won't take off the 'hiatus' status. But I don't know when/if I will get a new idea. I'm starting to understand the authors who write everything before publishing anything. *le sigh* I will focus my attention on my most faved/followed stories if at all possible. _

_Those of you who "check" on my stories, I recommend you make an account and start to follow the stories so as not to waste your time. _

_I apologize for any inconvenience...I just can't seem to write lately._


End file.
